


Destiel Angst

by phoenixburncold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Season 8, angsty, castiel wounded, what might have happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:29:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixburncold/pseuds/phoenixburncold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what might have happened when Castiel dropped in front of the Impala after Crowley shot him with the angel blade bullet (what happened to those btw??)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiel Angst

“Cure a demon," Dean said, still trying to wrap his head around that insane idea as he drove through the night. "Okay, ignoring the fact that I have no idea what that actually means, if we…if we do this, you get better, right? I mean, you stop trying to cough up a lung, and bumping into furniture?”

Sam looked at him, pale and shaky but at least there was fire behind his eyes again, and not just from a massive fever. “I feel better, yeah, just having a direction to move in.”

“Well, good, cause where we're headed doesn't sound like a picnic.”

“But we're heading somewhere," Sam insisted. "The end.”

Dean heaved a breath, looked at his brother and then back at the road. A body appeared in the middle of the road before Dean’s eyes, and his heart leapt into his throat. _Cass?_ he dared to wonder as he slammed the brakes and swerved. The headlights flicked over the figure’s face. It was Castiel, wounded but alive, who ducked his head from the lights and car. Dean threw the car into park and both brothers leapt out of the car. “Cass?” shouted Dean. Castiel looked up at him, bloodied. 

“A little help here,” the angel called out. Dean traded glances with Sam before looking back at Castiel. The angel panted softly before his head drooped to the ground. Dean immediately rushed to him. He took in the bullet wound and Castiel’s blood soaked hands with one glance. “I’m okay,” Castiel said, pulling his head up only to wince. 

“No, you aren’t,” Dean replied, picking him up. He walked the wounded angel to the backseat of the car and settled him in the car. 

“Cass, you okay?” Sam asked, seeing the blood all over Castiel. The angel stayed silent, panting instead.

“What the hell happened to you?” Dean demanded after pulling the car straight on the road again.

Castiel clutched his stomach, panting. “Naomi,” Castiel said, head rolling. “Then Crowley.” 

“Who shot you? And with what?” Dean asked, glancing back at the angel. “Usually you seal those things up right after you get hit.” 

“Crowley…he... melted down... an angel sword into bullets.” 

Dean and Sam traded glances. “That’s actually a pretty good idea,” Dean said, taking a curve. Castiel slid sideways onto the seat, unconscious. Dean glanced back at him again. “Dammit Cass,” he muttered, pushing the car faster.

They pulled up to the bunker and Dean turned the car off. “I’ll get some warm water,” Sam said. “We can at least wash him up.”

“Yea,” Dean replied before looking at the unconscious angel. “Hey get the needle and thread too,” he called after Sam. 

The taller hunter stopped just outside the door. “Think we’ll need them?” he asked, concern filling his features. 

“Don’t know,” Dean replied honestly. “But better to have them on hand just in case.” Sam nodded and went inside. Dean heaved a sigh. “Come on, Cass,” he said lifting the angel into his arms and shutting the car door with his foot. “Let’s get you inside.”

Sam ran the water and got a hand towel as Dean settled Castiel on the nearest table, cleared by Sam. Dean took off the angel’s trench coat and tie before undoing the buttons on the shirt. Dean remembered other times he had done this to Cass, better times. Times when he knew who and what Cass was, and who he himself was. _Hell, when I knew who anyone was_ , Dean thought, glancing at Sam as he dipped his hand into the water. Dean sighed and opened the shirt fully, revealing the gaping bullet wound. Dean looked at it closely. 

“Looks more like someone shoved their hand into him,” Sam remarked beside Dean, holding a large bowl of warm water with the hand towel in it.

“Yea,” Dean replied before taking the towel and straining it. 

“Hey,” Sam started looking at his brother. “Are you gonna be okay?” 

Dean gently wiped the blood from the large wound on Castiel’s torso. “Yea,” Dean responded. “Sure. You know. Just dealin’ with a lot. You,” he looked at his brother standing there with the bowl. “You look like Hell, and something’s so wrong with you Cass can’t even fix you. And then there’s Cass,” he said, looking down at the unconscious angel and wiped the blood from his chest. “I don’t know if I can trust him, if I even want to trust him again.” 

“Dean,” Sam sighed. 

“It’s just a lot Sammy,” Dean breathed, dipping the towel back in the water, rinsing it before straining it again.

“You don’t have to take care of me anymore,” Sam said softly. “I’ve made my choice. I can do this.”

Dean looked at his brother, uncertain what to say, before turning back and continuing to wipe the blood off Castiel. The wound still bled, streaks of red seeping from it, running down the angel’s side onto the surface of the table. “I’ll get the needle and thread,” Sam said, putting the bowl on the table. Dean sighed, rinsed the towel and wiped the blood from Castiel’s face. He leaned closer, concentrating on his task. He missed Castiel, he suddenly realized, missed him in ways he couldn’t even express. Castiel’s face clean, Dean brushed his fingertips against the angel’s lips softly. Castiel gave a soft moan and Dean’s heart melted a little. Then he rinsed the towel again and wiped the new streaks of blood from the wound. “I sterilized them,” Sam said, holding out the threaded needle that smelled strongly of whiskey. 

“Thanks,” Dean sighed taking it. He leaned in closer, hands steady. Just as he was about to start Castiel gripped his wrist. Startled, Dean jumped but was held in place by the angel’s hand. “Geez Cass,” Dean said, giving vent to a breath. 

“You do not need to do that,” Castiel said, pulling himself to a sitting position. He winced, more blood slipping from the wound. The angel let go of Dean before putting the hand over the wound and sealing it. Castiel winced again. “That will do for now. I cannot heal it fully because of the material, but that should suffice.”

“Great,” Dean said sharply, remembering why he was so mad at the angel in the first place. He stood up. “Glad you didn’t need us for anything. By the way, you’re welcome for pulling you off the road.”

“Dean,” Castiel called to the man’s back as he turned away. “Dean, wait.” Dean continued to walk away, heading to his room. He dropped the threaded needle on the edge of the table as he passed. Sam looked at Castiel and shrugged unhelpfully. 

“Sorry,” he said. “He’s going through a lot.”

Castiel sighed and looked around. “This is a significant improvement to the places you usually ‘crash’ at.”

Sam grinned. “Yea. Welcome to the Bunker. Our new home.” 


End file.
